Two Parts, One Whole
by Lahiwe
Summary: Twin hearts, one soul. When you find a kindred spirit, you never let it go. A sequel to the novel.
1. Prologue: Paying Dues

Julianna Baker wasn't sure how she felt about Bryce Loski.

Needless to say, when she walked up to his front porch, her mind was a confusion of thoughts and feelings.

_I shouldn't be doing this. He's a jerk. He'll just break my heart again._

_But he planted the sycamore tree for me…_

_But he hates me. And he's a jerk. And a liar. And a coward._

_But he tried to kiss me!_

…_Does he like me?_

_Ugh. Let's just get this over with._

Juli swept one long look over the Loskis' front yard: neat, perfectly manicured, with roses and gardenias in tightly trimmed flowerbeds. Perfect on the outside—_just like Bryce, _she reminded herself. But Juli's always been an idealist, and the winged hope inside of her still believed that Bryce Loski was worth waiting for. With that thought, she rang the doorbell.

Bryce was roused from his veg-out in front of the television by the sound of the doorbell. The Discovery Channel program about ancient saber-toothed tigers was kind of interesting, but his thoughts had soon drifted to the one thing they seemed to be able to linger on these days—Juli Baker.

_Maybe the tree was a dumb move. Maybe it was too much._

_What if she doesn't even want a tree in her front yard?_

_What if she still hates me?_

_What if she doesn't like me at all and avoids me forever because I tried to kiss her?_

…_she has really nice lips…_

It would be an understatement to say that when the doorbell rang, he was glad for the distraction. That is, until he opened the door.

"JULI," he choked out eloquently.

"Hi Bryce," she started uncertainly. Bryce was aware that he was staring at her openmouthed, but he couldn't help it. All he could see was the golden glow of the sun through her hair…the numerous freckles on her nose…her lips moving…_Juli…Juli…_

Wait, her lips were moving!

"Bryce? Did you hear me? I said how is your family?"

"Oh, ummm, they're just fine," he said, visibly flustered. "They're all out, though. Except my granddad. Did you come to see him? 'Cause if you did, I can go wake him up, it's no problem. He sometimes takes naps in the den—"

"Bryce, Bryce, that's okay! Really, it's fine," she laughed, clearly amused by Bryce's nervousness. Juli had never thought she'd see the day that _she _made _Bryce _nervous.

It was kind of a neat feeling.

"So…do you wanna come in?" Bryce asked hopefully, running his fingers through his mop of black hair. He smiled a lopsided, unsure, utterly charming smile, and it took Juli all the will power she had inside of her to remember that she was supposed to focus on the inside…not the outside…inside. _Breathe. You can do this, Juli. _

"No, actually. But thank you." Bryce's face immediately drooped like a flower without sun, and he only half covered it up with his I-got-this-under-control face. _Come on, Juli, he deserves to be a little disappointed, even if he planted the tree. _

"I just came over to say thank you for the tree." She turned to her house to look at the newly planted sapling, then smiled at Bryce—the first real, true smile she'd given him in months. "It's beautiful."

At seeing Juli smile, Bryce couldn't help but grin back. Somehow, it felt like he couldn't be whole if Juli was unhappy with him, and he was going to do whatever it took to get back into her good graces.

"I'm glad you like it. For a second while I was digging that hole it looked like you wanted to murder me," he joked easily, happier than he'd been in a long time. "But honestly…I understand now why you loved that sycamore so much. You always asked me to climb it with you and I never did—which sucks because I've heard from a certain local chicken farmer that the view is _unbelievable_—so this is my way of making it up to you." Juli smiled, but it was a forced smile that didn't quite reach her glistening eyes, and Bryce knew that he'd hurt her again, even if it was indirectly. Automatically he reached out and gently squeezed her hand.

"I'm sorry." _For everything, _his blue eyes whispered. Juli closed her eyes and held her breath to keep the tears from spilling out; miraculously, she was successful. Though she wanted oh-so-badly to keep it safe in Bryce's palm, she drew her hand away.

"I know."

Every bone in Bryce's body wanted to hug her, to drop to his knees and wrap his arms around her legs like a two year old and beg her to forgive him, but he'd been a complete **douche **to her for_ the entire time he'd known her. _That wouldn't just go away. He'd have to be patient and give her a lot of space if he ever wanted her to forgive him. He sighed, and there was a tense silence as they both glanced at each other, then looked away, hating all the mistakes they'd made.

Then Bryce remembered the all-important object stuffed into his third drawer.

"Wait here, I have something for you. Don't get that look, Juli; it's something I owe you anyway." He slammed the door shut unceremoniously, reopened it ten seconds later to apologize for slamming it, shut it once more (this time very gently), and came back with a wad of crumpled cash in his hand, which he promptly handed over to Juli.

"One hundred eighteen dollars-and another twenty-five for home delivery," he added with another crooked, self-deprecating smile. "Like I said, what I owe you."

Juli was stunned. She'd never received that much money all at once from anyone in her whole life. She couldn't possibly take it, could she? But she'd felt so used, so _cheated _when she found out that her generosity was being thrown in the Loskis' garbage bin.

"I—I can't—Bryce, how did you even know—"

"—how much you charged? I asked the lady down the street that you sell them to, then tacked on fifty cents because you're setting your prices _way _too low—"

"That's what Miss DiLuigi said!"

"—and yes, you _can_ take it because it's yours anyway," he finished triumphantly before she could cut him off with and protestations. "Who knows? Maybe you'll be the next _Eggland's Best _or something."

Juli couldn't help but laugh, and Bryce felt like flying.

"I have to go, Bryce, I promised my mom I'd help her clean the house today. Unfortunately for me and my dad and my brothers, my yard project made my mom determined to clean up what she calls our 'pigsty of a house,' which I guess is kind of a good thing, because then Matt and Mike's snake will be easy to find if it ever gets loose again—it only happened _once,_" she added quickly after seeing the horrified look on Bryce's face. "Anyway…I'll see you at the bus stop on Monday."

Bryce nodded eagerly; then frowned as she turned to go.

"…the bus stop?"

"Yes, the bus stop. The place where the school bus comes to pick kids up. The site of my first act of civil disobedience." Sarcasm was sort of fun. Maybe she should try it more often.

Bryce ignored it. "But what about your bike?"

"It's not much fun getting to school dirty or soaking wet when you don't have to."

With that, she walked down the driveway and back to her own house, leaving Bryce to mentally high-five himself and whisper "_Scooooooorrre!_" under his breath.


	2. The Snake Sheds its Skin

I'm not sure what I expected from Bryce when it came to interacting with me in front of our classmates, but whatever it was, he proved me wrong.

Monday morning dawned all too soon, as usual, and I was already dreading the bus stop. What had made me promise to be there, I didn't know. Maybe Bryce hadn't really changed. Or what if he had changed, but the peer pressure turned out to be too much? What if he went back to ignoring me? I didn't think my heart could stand another rejection.

_It doesn't matter. You don't need him to make you feel validated._

_I know, I know, but agh! Why am I even doing this?_

_Because you don't like having to go to school wet when you don't have to._

"Not taking your bike today? It's a beautiful morning outside," Dad pointed out as he saw me walk past the garage. Darn it, he was right. Now I had no reason for taking the bus except—

No. I wasn't going to say it. I wasn't even going to think it.

"I…I just got tired of pedaling up all those hills, I guess."

"I'm surprised you made it this long. I always wondered what superhuman strength helped to do that every day," he joked with a wink as my mom handed me my lunch bag. Oh, Dad. I love you and your corny jokes.

It had been a long time since I'd last ridden the bus; longer than I'd realized before. Had the bench always been this uncomfortable, with gum and hair and cigarette burns on it? Had it always been this loud and crowded? I guess I had never had the opportunity to notice since I was always up in my sycamore tree, looking out for the bus as it came closer and closer. Right now I could still feel the sweet smelling wind kissing my cheek; could still see the green leaves rustling. I felt tears forming in my eyes. It sounds crazy, but back then, that sycamore was my only friend, the only person who listened to my troubles. It even groaned sympathetically. I like to think that it really could hear me. And now it was gone.

Abruptly, I got that strange feeling that someone's eyes were on me, and that's when I noticed the stares and the whispers.

…_there's the Baker girl…_

_Is she riding the bus again?_

_Did you hear Bryce Loski tried to kiss her…_

…_dude, it's like he's flipped. Didn't he use to…_

Well, at least no one was laughing at me. I ignored them and decided to pull out _Anne of Green Gables, _which I was rereading for the thousandth time. If Anne weren't a fictional character, I'd say I was a reincarnation of her. She's so fiery and passionate and smart and imaginative, and a lot of people think she's crazy, but she rises above all of that and follows her own path. And today, the book seemed particularly appropriate, since it also revolved around a years-long childhood feud/one-sided crush, which of course ended happily with the two main characters _finally _getting together in the third book, ten years later…

Hmm, on second thought, maybe this wasn't such a good choice…

I didn't have time to wonder about it, though, because I noticed how quiet it had suddenly become. I looked up, and there was Bryce, staring at me; and there was everyone else, staring at him. My breath caught with two emotions: first, that I would never get used to having that ice blue stare on me, be it negative or positive, because every time I saw it, my heart beat a little faster; second, that this was the moment he would make the decision: me, or popularity? I closed my eyes and waited to hear his voice join in with his friends, trying to assure myself that it didn't matter, it really didn't matter, I could get over it. But then I felt someone sit next to me, and heard a familiar voice whisper "_Bookworm"_ into my ear.

"_Bryce?!"_

"_Juli?!" _he mimicked teasingly. He deliberately ignored the frenzied whispering that hovered around us and the glares of his usual crowd, focusing only on me with that beautiful smile. He came to me! He actually came to _me_! I was practically turning somersaults inside, but I forced myself to be rational, to prepare for the worst.

"Bryce, don't you want to talk to your friends?"

"I _am _talking to my friends," he whispered defiantly, without even glancing up at the aforementioned friends. As much as my heart fluttered-no, _soared_-when he said that, I knew it wasn't true.

"No, you're not—I mean not _yet,_" I amended when he looked like I'd just punched him in the stomach. "Bryce, we barely know each other. We've never even had a real conversation—"

"Juli, this is a 'real' conversation. And how am I supposed to get to know you if I don't sit and talk to you, huh?"

He had me there.

"So," he continued, "we could talk about the book you're reading. _Anne of Green Gables. _Sounds interesting. Or we could talk about perpetual motion, 'cause I remember you're into that—"

"Or we could wait till we're on the bus so we don't get left because it's loading right now?"

For the rest of the day, we talked as we went from class to class about favorite movies and songs, subjects and teachers, foods and countries. I never knew that there was so much I _didn't _know about him; it was like talking to a complete stranger. When he joined me, Darla and Jon at our lunch table, he looked completely natural and at ease for the first time in all the time I'd known him; the opposite of his usual self, which was stiff, detached, and constantly aware of who was watching. I noticed things about him that I'd never noticed before, things like the tiny chip in one of his front teeth that only shows if you stand next to him when he's laughing really hard, and the little crease between his eyes when he disagrees with something, but doesn't want to show it. Also, he's hilarious. I think he could be a stand-up comedian if he wanted to. He makes these observations about people that I never would have noticed, but are so ridiculously obvious when he points them out. Take for an example when Bryce and Darla and I were walking down the hallway to Chemistry, the class we all had together. We were laughing about how the Booster Lunch auction had included reading little bios of each boy that were written by their moms and therefore mortifying beyond belief, when Darla stopped me and Bryce and said, "Whoa, witch alert, straight ahead!"

I looked up and sure enough, Shelley Stalls was right down the hallway, fixing all of us—especially Bryce—with a glare that would have made a polar bear shiver. I have to admit, I was a little scared. As Friday's lunch proved, not to mention my own personal experience, she fights dirty. But Bryce just sent her a cool stare back and rounded the corner. Darla and I exchanged glances. What had _that _meant? However, before we could speculate on that, Bryce had tapped us both on the shoulder and whispered, "Does Shelley ever remind you of Hilary Duff with a couple of Pomeranian dogs on her head?"

We all thought about it for a minute, then burst out laughing. It was so true! All of a sudden, the intimidating image of my arch enemy deflated like a sad balloon, and a weight, probably of jealousy, was lifted from my shoulders. For the first time, Shelley Stalls wasn't the Queen of Harpies, but an imperfect girl with visible flaws, just like me.

Even though I was having the time of my life, I was still bewildered. Bryce had hated me for seven whole years, and I had pretty much accepted that that was how it was going to be. But over the course of a single weekend, he'd managed to run contrary to everything he'd said, done, and felt for those seven years. Now he was constantly near me, asking questions, giving compliments, being attentive. It seemed less like a leopard changing its spots and more like a snake shedding its entire skin. Had he really been able to change that quickly, or was this just a fleeting mood, one that would disappear just when I had started to find hope in it?

The school day was over soon, and I waved goodbye to Darla as she got into the driver's seat of her mom's car (she's teaching Darla how to drive!) before I walked over to where the buses picked us up. I found Bryce sitting alone with his hands clasped behind his head and a thoughtful look on his face. How was it fair that anyone could look so beautiful while doing something so simple? Sitting there, with the sun shining through the leaves onto his hair and his mouth curled up in a tiny smile, he just looked…perfect.

"Bryce?"

He jumped, then smiled even wider when he looked up at me, and moved his backpack so that I could sit down.

"No, wait. I was going to say that…I sort of want to sit alone on the bus."

Bryce looked crestfallen. Why, oh why did I have to keep doing this to him?

"Okay," he murmured. Then he looked up at me. "Did I hurt you again?"

"No, that's not it at all. It's…" I sighed. How could explain my convoluted feelings to him when I had such a hard time understanding them myself?

"It's just that three weeks ago, you hated me, and now all of a sudden you're here, you're everywhere, and I'm still mad at you about what you said about Uncle David and _me,_ and about our yard, and the eggs, but I don't _want _to be mad. I used to be obsessed with you but now I'm not; I want to be friends with you but I don't know if I should. So for now—at least for this bus ride—I need to be alone so I can think about it for a while."

Bryce nodded; he was still unhappy, but not completely devastated. He smiled bitterly.

"I guess even when I try to be nice, I still have no idea how to treat you."

"Bryce, you were wonderful today. I _liked _spending time with you. That's part of why I'm so confused." Good, that cheered him up. The tiny little bit of seven-year-old Julianna left in me couldn't stand to see him sad.

We sat in silence as the spring wind blew the sweet scent of cherry blossoms across the school yard. Maybe I could take a picture of the blossoming cherry tree across the street from our school for my dad to paint. I considered the possible angles to get the best view, but my thoughts soon wandered to the boy not five inches away from me, so close that I could touch him. It took all my will power not to gently take his hand. Thankfully the bus arrived soon, and Bryce and I both hoisted our backpacks onto our shoulders without saying a word to each other. I was just about to get in line when I felt Bryce tap my elbow with a touch so feather light, it made me shiver.

"For the record, Juli, it's been a _long _time since I hated you." He smiled, his eyes twinkling with something very close to affection, and left me standing there, open-mouthed.

Maybe there was more to Bryce Loski than I ever could have imagined.


	3. Worth It?

Have you ever had to face the fact that, for most of your life, you've been a stupid, stuck-up, selfish, cowardly, repressed jerk?

I highly _don't _recommend it, buddy. It's not fun at all.

However, I kind of had to. Ever since Juli had told me that she needed space and had explained why, it was pretty much all I _could _think about. I'd never realized how much I'd, like, _scarred _her. She was practically as afraid of me as I was of Matt and Mike's snake, even if she tried to hide it. I thought back to every time I'd sneered at her, or just pretended she didn't exist. Back then, I'd always prided myself on not caring about how she felt about my attitude, because she was just disgusting Juli Baker, and she probably didn't even have feelings beyond her insane, freakish attraction to me. But now, I could remember the redness in her eyes every time I'd pushed her away, and how as I gained more and more friends, she seemed to get further and further from everyone else, more dreamy. Lonelier.

Now I realize that that was all because of me.

And here I was thinking I was "the man."

After the bus ride home, I took one of those angry walks around my neighborhood. You know the kind—you kick rocks, shout at birds, step on ants, flick mailboxes, that kind of stuff. I was angry that I'd gotten close too soon; angry that I couldn't seem to do anything right around her; angry that I'd taken this long to try. I know I must have looked pretty terrifying, because some little kids on roller skates practically tripped over themselves trying to get out of my way as I swept past them. One kid, a little boy whose dreadlocks were so long he couldn't possibly see through them, actually _did _trip over my foot, and instead of saying something a normal person with a heart might say, I actually _growled _at him. Of course, he burst into tears.

Well, shrieks would be more like it.

"_Yooooooouuuuu-tripped—_(sniff)—_meeeeeeeeeeeee!_"

Immediately, I got out of my funk. God, the poor kid looked miserable, and his lip was bleeding. I stepped closer to him and leaned down on one knee. I wasn't frowning anymore—I didn't want to scare him any more than he already was.

"Hey, are—are you okay?" _Thank you, Captain Obvious._ "Uh…wait here, I'll go and get some ice—"

Then his little blonde girlfriend intervened. "YOU LEAVE HIM ALONE," she shouted, pushing me back towards the sidewalk for good measure. I looked at the dreadlock kid, then back at the little girl who was still frowning up a storm at me, then back at the dreadlock kid. It was like me and Juli all over again. She was the brave one, standing up for her friend, and not backing down from a guy who was three and a half feet taller than her. The only difference was that when she rushed back to him and held his hand, he didn't brush her away. He smiled and hugged her; whispered "Thanks, Phoebe," into her ear.

Fate and I usually aren't on very good terms, but today he or she seemed to be hell bent on shoving my face further and further into a pile of poo.

….but then, maybe it wasn't.

Maybe it was to make me remember the time she'd climbed up into her sycamore tree and gotten the kite I would've been too scared to get. Maybe it was to make me remember how she'd saved my butt on spelling tests by going against her nature and helping me cheat. Maybe it was to make me think about how she'd brought me a fresh carton of eggs every week, smiling wide even though she knew I'd never give her more than an awkward grimace back.

Maybe I was supposed to think about today, when she'd let me back in in spite of herself.

For the first time that evening, I smiled. If Juli had given me a chance all those times—was _still_ giving me a chance—even though I never deserved it, maybe there was something about me that she thought was worth it. I definitely couldn't tell what it was, and I wasn't sure I agreed with her, but I decided to trust that maybe—

Just _maybe_—

I could make her happy.

* * *

Unfortunately, phase one of Operation "Make Juli See That I'm Not That Idiot Jerk Anymore and I Swear to God I'll Never Hurt You Again" included the one thing that I now found impossible: leaving Juli alone.

I know, dear reader, that you're probably thinking "You sure used to do a damn good job at that," and I know I deserve that. Feel free to use me for target practice on your wall or something if it makes you feel better. Just so you know, though, I'm telling the truth. And I'm not just saying that because I felt like tearing my eyeballs out every time I walked past her without talking (okay, maybe not tearing out my eyeballs, because then I couldn't look at her—maybe my arm hair instead). I'm also saying it because leaving Juli alone also meant _being _alone. What, did you think that my old friends miraculously welcomed me back as their favorite person in the whole universe?

Think again, buddy.

I tried pretty hard to stay invisible. Rather than sit in the cafeteria alone—my permanent seat at the cool kids table had suddenly vanished—I ate lunch on the front steps of the school while playing my Nintendo DS, my hoodie pulled almost completely over my head. Soon, that was where I was at any time outside of class, besides basketball practice (which wasn't going very well—Garrett always seemed to make a mistake on defense when I was about to shoot). And I wasn't just playing video games anymore. I did my homework, I read the Harry Potter books that my aunt had sent me for Christmas—they were getting pretty popular nowadays, and I found myself kind of liking them. I watched my classmates mill around me and actually got to know them, even if it was only in a distant, stalker-ish way. I hadn't noticed that Abby knitted while she waited for the bus. Weird, but cool. And apparently Adam did magic tricks by the water fountain for the sixth and seventh graders—he was surprisingly good, considering he was always superhumanly slow at waking up in the classes that he fell asleep in, which was all of them. But watching my classmates was just a by-product of what my eyes were actually focused on.

Yup, you guessed it! I shouldn't even have to say her name by now, should I?

I don't think she noticed I was there, since she only came to the front of the school when Darla's mom picked her up. I was a little hurt that she hadn't seemed to even try to find me in all this time, but she had every reason to want space. One morning, though, I was surprised to see her at the very edge of the school grounds with what looked like a camera in her hand. There weren't too many people in the front in the morning anyway—only a few straggling loners (that includes me) who came here for the sole purpose of getting away from everyone else. She kneeled on the ground, snapped a few pictures, got up, held her camera over her head, adjusted the focus, snapped, and repeated the whole process.

Trust Juli to take pictures in every position except straight ahead.

I followed the direction of her camera lens to a house across the street. The only thing, and I mean the _only _thing that was in any way remarkable about the house was a small cherry tree that was in full bloom. Unfortunately for the runty tree, full bloom was pretty sparse. I couldn't see why she thought it was worthy of taking a picture of—why not something pretty, like a sunflower or something? There were plenty of those by the railroad tracks.

However, I wasn't going to question the inner workings of an artist.

I couldn't help it—I had to get closer to her. I hadn't talked to her in weeks, and I missed all of her crazy expressions. So I got up from my perch by the bust of our school's founder and stood by the lamppost about fifty feet away. Imagine the scene—a young girl taking pictures while a shadowy figure watches her next to a pole. It sounds like the beginning of one of those _Lifetime _kidnapping movies, doesn't it? All I needed was a white van, for Pete's sake.

Man, I had to do something about this stalker image I was projecting. And I was tired of just watching her from the shadows like an emo kid when she wasn't even mad at me! Against the will of my screaming logic, I walked up to her, about to tap her on the shoulder—

She noticed me first.

"Bryce," she said without turning around, without even looking up, "can you take a picture for me?"

Well that was extremely unexpected. But definitely not unwelcome.

"Uh, sure. Is this a DSLR?"

"Yeah, I got it from a pawn shop and fixed it up. It's pretty neat, isn't it?"

"It looks brand new! Whoa, Barbara the Builder over here," I said, grinning. It had been so long since I'd last grinned that it actually hurt.

"It was no big deal, I just got a few spare parts and stuff…" Her blush said otherwise. I loved making her blush.

"Whatever, I know I couldn't have done this. I'm guessing you want a picture of you in front of that cherry tree?"

Her mouth fell open. "How did you know?"

"Just call it my…._spidey-sense_." At that, she laughed, really laughed, with her eyes crinkled shut and everything. I swear I was grinning all over the place, and now it didn't hurt anymore. Now it felt unbelievable.

"I'm gonna go across the street, okay? I'll stand in front of the tree and you take the picture. But hurry, because I think the first bell is going to ring in a few minutes." She ran straight across the street, not bothering to look out for cars and barely avoiding getting hit by one, and walked up to the tree, careful not to crush the grass. I was a little nervous, since I knew my attempt would be mediocre at best, but I managed to get the camera in focus. When I put it to my eye, I was amazed at how perfect the whole thing was—the pink flowers made her soft brown hair and tannish-red cheeks look more beautiful than they were already, and of course she made the tree look better than it probably ever would. I took one picture, then two more, then more after that—I wanted it to be as perfect as it looked. Finally I held a thumbs-up and she came running across the street again, panting heavily.

"You didn't-have to—take _that _many," she said breathlessly.

"Sorry, I kind of got caught up in the moment." Neither of us said anything for a while, and the bell rang like it was trying to remind us that we were supposed to be avoiding each other.

"Well, I'll leave you alone now." She didn't say anything, just looked at me with a confused frown on her face, and I walked towards the door before I did something stupid like try to kiss her again.

"Wait!...Don't you….I thought you would want to see some of the pictures."

"I thought you…..never mind. That was stupid. Yeah, I definitely want to see them." Miss an opportunity to talk to her? You're kidding, right?

She caught up with me and we wandered through the halls together, poring over the screen. She'd somehow managed to make the stubby tree look like an art sculpture, and she'd known just how to capture the orangey morning light. Dang. I hoped she wouldn't laugh at mine.

"Bryce, these are perfect! You actually made me look pretty…and the flowers are so delicate-looking. Wow, I'm going to get this one developed." She turned around and smiled at me, and now _I _was the one blushing.

Did I ever tell you how much I freaking _love _Julianna Baker?

* * *

**A/N: **Yes, this is a little angsty, and yes, this is a little fluffy. Do not despair! Things won't be wine and roses for them forever, even though we all wish otherwise. I finally got inspiration for a direction to take this in, so things should be moving forward pretty quickly. Don't forget to leave a review!


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